Let’s start with a little vulnerability, shall we?
“Yes! Yes! Give us the tea, Omer!”
I don’t think we’re ready for the full Boston Tea Party experience. 92,000 lbs is too much to handle!
But let me give you a small bag, or a dime bag? Let’s stick with a small bag… of tea 😉
Three years ago at this time, I was sleeping on the couch, in the basement, in the dog house of my own home.
If you were following my wife during this time, she was on the highlight reels of social media.
Competing for Mrs. Wyoming, winning, competing for Mrs. America in Vegas. It was bonkers! She was (and still is) an absolute smoke show! Fancy dresses, fancy makeup, toned and tan, like a supermodel.
But what wasn’t shared, what we kept private for that time, was our marital struggles.
We had happy moments, for sure. There are pictures and videos from that time period where we had blissful experiences. But as late summer turned to fall, we could no longer ignore the monster under the bed. The undercurrent, the backdrop, the tone beneath the surface, was one of struggle and bitterness and years of stacked up pain.
I had taken the day off work just before my birthday. That way I’d have a three day weekend.
And that morning, before I left for some alone time in the Wyoming wilderness, my wife told me she had been thinking about separating. In fact, as I remember it, that was the first time we had let the D word enter the conversation.
Hell of a birthday, huh?! Felt like I was punched in the gut, kicked square between the legs, then the door hit me on the way out.
From my birthday, all the way through to Thanksgiving, I was living in the basement of my own home. Still working, still eating meals, still showering and getting ready for the days, but doing it from a place of isolation. No touches, no hugs, no kisses in our marriage. No shower peeks, no booty grabs, no innuendos to speak of. She did her thing. I did my thing.
We wanted to keep a semblance of order for our kids. We didn’t want them to know we were going through the wringer. We did a pretty good job keeping it all hush-hush. But we had so much to work through. I had so much to work through.
Hours upon hours upon hours of emotional conversations, journaling, counseling, and prayer. Tears upon tears upon tears, coming from a guy who had only cried about 3x total in our first 12 years of marriage.
But everything was about to fall apart. Everything was about to come crashing down. And who knows how awful that would have been?!
Have you ever been in the dog house? Ever sent your spouse to the dog house? At the time, it feels more like a prison. At least the animals still get love and attention. But not you, not either of you.
Have you ever had to discuss how you’re going to handle the holidays, so you appear put together, but you know you’re a wreck? Fake a smile, fake a sickness, fake another obligation?
Have you ever had to talk to a friend for two hours and word vomit about how you felt blindsided, self-assured in your rightness, just to have them tell you in the kindest and politest way to pull your head out of your ass? You’re part of the problem and it takes two to tango? I appreciate these loyal friends. Eternally grateful for them. Faithful are the wounds of a friend.
Have you ever had to think through what it would look like to move to another place, likely an apartment, while your spouse took care of the kids at home? Because your spouse was the emotionally present one and you were emotionally absent?
Have you ever had to sort through heartache and relational wounds from 20+ years ago that had nothing to do with your spouse, just so you can finally move forward in your marriage?
These raw and tender and deeply emotional moments are happening in our lives or the lives of people all around us…
Maybe even happening with you, right now, right this moment.
In the middle of people’s highlight reels, there may be a whole world we don’t know about just below the surface.
You
Just
Never
Know.
Omer Redden 